


One Night, a Drunken Kiss

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: AU of my fic "Home", Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: The boys have a drunken smooch fest. Because evidently when they’re drunk, they’re not such idiots. At least it’s a start.





	One Night, a Drunken Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> In my end-of-season-seven story, [“Home,”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11904024) the boys reference an-almost-kiss they’d had several years before. My mind decided it needed to know what would have happened if they _had_ kissed then. This is what it came up with.
> 
> (You do not have to have read “Home” in order to read this.)
> 
> Hope you’re all safe and warm and dry!

They’d developed a habit, and they knew it was a bad one—they never intended it to become a regular thing, you have to understand, it just... well, it just kind of happened, and once it had happened once, it was far too easy to fall into doing it again. If they’d been a little more self-aware about it, they might have seen _why_ it had become a habit. But they weren’t. So, it was just this thing they sometimes did.

The thing was, sometimes the cases were too much to cope with. It was almost easier if one of them got hurt, because then one would be injured and the other would be obsessing over the injury: pampering his partner, doting on him, bringing him food, sitting by his side while he slept (you know, just in case). Those were kind of nice times, if they were honest about it. Which they absolutely were not.

But sometimes, they both made it through a case unscathed, physically. And those were the times the invisible injuries made themselves loud. Steve and Danny both had enough wounds of the emotional sort to be getting on with, so it wasn’t unusual that a case triggered old hurts they thought had scarred over. Maybe they should have talked about that. But they didn’t.

Instead, they drank.

Which we all know is exactly the right way to deal with things.

Um.

But the thing is, it had two effects. One of which was that it got them to actually freaking relax (and yeah, it helped block out the pain). The other thing is that it _did_ get them to talk—not about their old wounds, and not about some things they really should have talked about (like their undying love for each other). But other stuff. Tangential stuff. Stuff that it was good for them to talk about.

So, in a way the drinking helped.

It might have had another effect as well. Because, there’s that thing about _in vino veritas_ , which isn’t completely invalid. And then there’s the fact that Danny and Steve are both affectionate drunks. _Very_ affectionate drunks. So they tend to get a little touchy feely. I know, I know, you’re thinking _What the heck? They’re_ already _touchy feely!_ And, yeah. They are. But picture that times five. They get a bit handsy is what I’m trying to say.

And then there was that one time they got a bit... more.

The case had been an awful one. Truly awful. At first they hadn’t even been able to drink. They’d sat together on Steve’s sofa and looked at their beers for half an hour. And then, in desperation, Steve had suggested they go swim, thinking the water might be a decent treatment—salt water in some form being a reliable cure, and since they were past being able to cry about it, and were far too tired for sweating... well, maybe the sea would help. And, it did. But mostly because they wound up being cold when they got out, then showering and putting on dry clothes, and then sitting out on the upstairs lanai, huddled under a blanket, sharing gulps directly from the bottle of whiskey. And then, kissing. A lot. And then stumbling into bed and passing out.

The next morning they woke, in bed together, limbs aching from their awkward positions, heads aching from the whiskey. And they tried not to overreact, just slowly pulled themselves apart and sat, looking anywhere but at each other.

Finally, Danny spoke.

“I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?”

Steve scratched his head. “Uh. Pretty sure we did.”

“Did what?” Danny was looking a little unwell.

Steve looked at Danny, whose eyes were focusing on the sheet as though it were fascinating. “ _Kiss_.”

“Did we? Huh.” Danny met Steve’s eyes. “Um. Anything else?”

He smiled lopsidedly. “I really can’t imagine we were sober enough for that, Danny.”

“Yeah, okay....”

Steve wasn’t sure if that had made Danny feel better or not. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Danny repeated, but he didn’t sound any more convinced.

Action, then, was Steve’s best option. Besides. They’d both be sick if they didn’t do something. “We’d uh, we’d better drink some water....”

They did. And coffee. And then Danny had to go home and get clothes. And then they had to actually go to work. Which was fun. Or not really. Like, _at all_. Because completely aside from feeling like utter crap, they clumsily attempted to avoid each other the entire day. And the rest of the week as well. Chin tried a couple of times to ask what the heck was going on, but he didn’t get anywhere. Kono didn’t even ask.

But on Saturday morning, they abruptly got over it. Or so it seemed.

They had another habit, besides drinking too much after rough cases, and that was going surfing on Saturday mornings when nothing got in the way and Danny didn’t have Grace for the weekend. At seven, when Steve showed up at Danny’s place, surfboards in the back of his truck, really big coffees in his hands and box of Danny’s favorite malasadas under his arm, Danny was waiting for him. Steve took that as a good sign, and he grinned happily when Danny took a coffee and the box from Steve, jumped in the truck, and made himself comfy, contentedly munching the sugary doughy goodness as they drove to their favorite surf spot.

And they didn’t engage their usual banter that day while they surfed—somehow that didn’t feel right. But they did surf longer than usual (probably because they couldn’t figure out what to do once they stopped) and eventually they were exhausted and famished, and wound up collapsing on the sand, looking at each other somewhat uncomfortably.

“Come back to mine for some food?” Steve asked, pretending to be unaware he had an agenda.

Danny either bought it or didn’t think about it or some part of him knew they needed to talk.

And they did talk. Not about the kissing. About pretty much everything else, though.

Meanwhile, “food” turned into “food and drinking,” which turned into “more drinking and watching the game,” which turned into “better get more food,” which eventually turned into “more drinking” and finally “it’s getting late...” and “now what?”

If they weren’t both such idiots they would have realized that all of that complicated and silly mess was because they hadn’t talked about the kiss. But they _were_ idiots. So they didn’t realize it. But they did drink kind of a lot—though it was spread over a long time and accompanied by a lot of food, so they didn’t get drunk so much as just really, really _loose_. By the time the game was done, they were in their usual relaxed spots, tangled together on the sofa, completely at ease. It wasn’t till then that they noticed they had been playing with each other’s hands, intertwining their fingers, thumbs rubbing against wrists. It was casual, yet intimate, and they’d done it without even thinking.

They really were complete idiots.

Steve was staring at Danny’s hand in his. “So, ah, are we gonna talk about it?”

“Well, we _could_....” Danny looked up at him.

“Okay....” Steve met his eyes, waiting for the “but.”

Taking his lip between his teeth, Danny ventured: “Or we could just kiss again....”

An “or” was a lot better than he’d expected. “You think we should do it again?” Steve’s heart was in his throat.

Danny swallowed. “Do you?”

“I dunno. Do you?” Steve was yelling at himself. _Of course I do! Yes! Yes! Let’s kiss!_

“Well,” Danny began, philosophically. Danny sometimes waxed philosophical when he’d been drinking white wine. Steve knew this, of course, but that hadn’t been why he’d had only white wine in his fridge. Honest. It was Danny’s favorite, and it had been on sale. He’d just been stocking up, it didn’t mean anything. Really.

Danny took a breath, and continued his theoretical reasoning. “We were too drunk to remember the kiss. So, I suppose we should try it again when we’re less drunk. Just so we know. You know, how it was....”

Do you see what I mean about them being idiots? Gesh.

“Yep. Makes sense,” Steve said, and plunged forward, aggressively sticking his tongue down Danny’s throat.

They didn’t pull back until it was almost too late.

“Uh. Maybe... we should....” Danny trailed off uncertainly.

Trying not to be overly eager, Steve suggested tentatively: “Take it upstairs?”

“Yeah, that.” Danny took a breath. He sounded tired. “Or, I was going to say stop.”

Steve stopped breathing. “You want to stop?”

“I dunno. I think it’d be nice to know....” Danny was looking at the ground.

Steve tried to get him to meet his eyes. “What?”

“Are we only going to do this when we’re drunk?” Once he’d said it, he looked up. And, yeah, he looked sleepy. Adorably so. But he also looked... something else Steve couldn’t quite name. But it went right to his heart in a floppy sweet way.

“Huh,” Steve grinned. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Danny smiled back. And he kind of collapsed against Steve. Who felt a little confused. But grateful that Danny had definitely not said “no.” He did notice Danny drifting off, though. So he ran through in his head if staying on the sofa would be a viable option, or if he dared risk getting Danny in his bed.

“Hey, buddy... let’s go to bed, okay?”

“Sounds nice,” Danny slurred sleepily.

“Yeah, doesn’t it? Can you walk, buddy?”

“Sure thing. Just hang on.” And he started to snore.

So, there’s this fantasy Steve’d had for some time now, and the option to do it was right there in front of him, and he thought about it for maybe less than a minute before he realized there was no way he could possibly pass it up. Feeling a surge of regret that no one was there to witness it, he picked Danny up, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him up to his room. In Steve’s daydreams, he was wearing his dress blues when he did it, but still. The result was the same.

Danny stirred momentarily when Steve put him down, but went back to softly snoring. Steve quickly brushed his teeth, then practically jumped into bed, kissing Danny on the head, settling down next to him, snuggling against his side as best he could without disrupting him. Far from being disrupted, though, Danny snorted, flipped over, flinging an arm possessively around Steve, pulling him close, and mumbling “Love you, babe.”

Steve’s heart wanted to jump out of his chest. He fell asleep with a huge smile on his lips, and when he opened his eyes in the morning, Danny was smiling at him.

“I woke up wanting to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” Steve grinned lopsidedly again, but this time it felt a lot better.

“ _Yes_ ,” Danny said, as though he were talking to an idiot. “And, see, I’m sober.”

Steve licked his lips. “How about that.”

Danny seemed to want more of an answer. “Okaaay, and...?”

“And what?” Steve asked, feigning innocence.

But Danny wasn’t getting annoyed. He was being all sincere, and it was really cute. “Um. Do you?”

Steve probably shouldn’t press his luck, but it was hard to not do: “Do I what?”

“Oh my god.” There, that was more like it; that perpetually-irritated-with-you tone that Steve loved so much. Danny sighed. “Do you want to kiss me? Now that you’re, you know. Sober?”

Steve sat up, matched Danny’s posture. Looked him directly in the eye. “Danny. I wake up every morning wanting to kiss you.”

“Oh?” He blinked, puzzled.

Steve leaned back. “I go to bed each night wanting to kiss you.”

“Is that so....” Danny was frowning.

“ _Yeah_.”

“For how long?” He looked confused.

Steve sighed. “A really long time.”

“Okaaay,” Danny scratched at his forehead. “Um. How long?”

“A really, really, _really_ long time.”

“Jesus. You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.” But he was grinning again.

“So. Um. Are you going to kiss me?”

Steve sat back up. “Coffee first?”

“Uh, sure....”

Coffee turned into breakfast out on the lanai with fresh fruit and eggs and toast, which turned into “let’s go paddle boarding,” which turned into a bit of a water fight, which turned into “we’d better shower” and “maybe I’ll make us some more food,” which turned into “hey, the game is on,” which turned into “this game is boring, let’s watch a movie,” which turned into “let’s order pizza....”

Oh. Did I forget to mention all the kissing? Huh. Sorry about that, let me try again.

Steve got out of bed and scampered off to the bathroom where he brushed his teeth and set out a new toothbrush for Danny. Danny followed him, grabbed the toothbrush and brushed, then pressed Steve against the bathroom wall in a thorough and elaborate kiss that left him breathless.

When Danny stepped back from the wall, Steve stayed leaning against it, doubting his ability to stand on his own at the moment. “Didn’t I say coffee first?”

“You got overruled.” Danny swayed a little as he said it.

Steve felt all warm and woozy. This was a side to Danny he hadn’t expected. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Danny squinted at him. “You don’t normally take that very well.”

“I think this time I don’t mind,” he pointed out what felt like the obvious.

They walked downstairs, which was kinda hard as they were trying to grope each other as they went, but they made it to the kitchen, where Steve put on a pot of coffee, passed a bowl of fruit in Danny’s direction, handed him a knife, and put some eggs in the pan. He burnt the first round of toast because they got distracted, you know, kissing or something. But eventually they had the tray loaded with sliced fruit, mugs of coffee, a plate of buttered toast, and two plates of scrambled eggs, and headed out to the lanai. Unfortunately, they rather forgot about the food because the fresh air made them want to kiss again, so the eggs were cold by the time they got to them and they didn’t eat much.

It really was a lovely day out, though, so they decided to take the paddle board out for a bit. Turns out, it’s quite challenging to stay upright on a paddle board while making out, so they kept ending up in the water—where they would blame each other for the fall, with a dramatic show of splashing—until they gave in and allowed themselves to sit on the board and simply float back to land, kissing the whole way.

When they finally hit land, Steve tackled Danny into the sand in an attempt to get better leverage for said kissing, which Danny did not mind at all (honest, he didn’t complain until after), so they ended up in the shower—where Danny made sure they got all the sand off. So, obviously that took a while. By which point they were feeling a bit lightheaded from all the, ahem, exertion, so Steve insisted they needed protein. He grilled some fish while Danny made a salad, and they ate it out on the lanai, sitting _really_ close, and gazing somewhat bemusedly into each others’ eyes.

Afterwards, while Danny cleared the dishes, Steve looked for a game on TV, because by that point he was wanting an “excuse” to cuddle Danny. The whole sitting in chairs looking longingly at each other thing had been nice, it had. But he was a very tactile person (well, with Danny he was), and he needed more physical contact. They were good at the eye contact, really very good at it. And they were surprisingly adept at the physical contact as well—putting their arms around each other often and exuberantly. But the more intimate contact (especially while _not_ drinking) was still very new, and Steve craved more. A lot more. And soon.

“This whole sober kissing thing,” Danny said, as he joined Steve on the sofa to watch the game.

“Yeah?” Steve mumbled into Danny’s hair as he gathered him in his arms and against his chest.

“It’s even better than the drunk kissing.”

He couldn’t help it, that made him smirk. Of course it did. “I’m glad.”

The game got a little boring, so they made up for it with some enthusiastic kissing. But they got to the point they either needed to stop or, you know, keep going. Steve suggested they watch a movie, so they would at least have some distraction. Which helped. A little. Especially once they decided they should eat more—after all, paddle boarding (well, okay: floating and kissing) and aggressive making out burn a lot of calories. Unsurprisingly, Danny suggested they order pizza which might have prompted a brief argument about the various merits of pineapple on pizza. But Danny kissed Steve and said “no” into his mouth, then kissed him again, and Steve kind of rolled over and said “Whatever you want, Danno,” very, very fondly.

Once the movie was over and the pizza finished, they were unsurprisingly tired. By some sort of mutual, unspoken agreement, they ended up out on the upstairs lanai, cuddling together, watching the moon, playing with each others’ hands again.

“So, ahhh, the kissing while not drunk....” Danny repeated.

Steve turned to Danny, _that_ look in his eyes. You know the one I mean. The utterly smitten, totally done for, absolutely and completely in love look. _Yeah, that one_. “I’d definitely call it a success.”

Danny shivered slightly. “Good, me too. So, this means...?”

“I don’t really know. What does it mean?” Steve was still looking at Danny in that way. He just couldn’t stop. Do you blame him? The way the moonlight made his hair glow... I mean.

Danny, however, was completely oblivious. “Well. I think there’s some other stuff we should try.”

Steve smirked. “That so?”

“Yeah, like, you know, going out in public rather than just being here making out....” To be honest, he didn’t sound terribly convinced that going out was a _good_ thing.

Steve certainly wouldn’t have minded the staying-in-and-making-out. Still, he nodded in agreement. “Uh-huh... anything else?”

“Well, getting through a day at the office without kissing will be interesting.” Danny pulled at his bottom lip, his face slightly pained.

“Yep, excellent point.” Of course, who said Steve planned on _not_ kissing Danny in the office? That wasn’t very likely, you have to admit.

“And then there’s some other stuff I’d really like to get to....” Danny paused, as though he was schooling himself to make a point that he really did not want to, but felt he needed to. Huffing out a breath, he finished: “But I think we should probably make sure we can do the other stuff first.”

Steve took a shaky breath, but nodded. “Yeah, buddy, I think probably you’re right.”

“Huh.” Danny squinted at him.

“What?”

“You don’t usually agree with me that easily.” He was still squinting.

“Sure I do, Danny. I always agree with you.”

Danny started laughing, then he stood, and offered his hand to Steve. “Alright. Let’s go to bed.”

He took it and got to his feet, embracing Danny and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “See? I agree with that.”

“Uh-huh. I bet you do,” Danny sighed heavily and shook his head, but he was smiling.

So they went to bed, and eventually fell asleep—though they didn’t exactly sleep soundly—and the next morning they went to work, where they lasted all of fifteen minutes before Steve called Danny into his office, closed the blinds, and kissed him soundly. If anyone wondered why Steve suddenly was keeping his blinds shut all the time, no one dared ask. Eventually it got easier, to be close and not kiss. But it took lots and lots of practice. And lots and lots of kissing (and other stuff) not at work, to make up for it.

Fortunately, they didn’t mind the extra work. Not one bit.


End file.
